#Slay the Princess fanfiction

[msfcatlover]

The Dancer

Slay the Princess route where you insist there has to be a key, convince the Narrator to let you go back upstairs to retrieve the knife, and manage to escape the cabin to search outside of the window, where you find it half-buried in the garden. The Narrator tries everything to make you drop the key or give up the idea, every step back down into the basement is a different form of agony, before you finally drop to your knees at the Princess’s side (mid cardiac arrest) and unlock her cuff.

The Princess is delighted. She grabs her unshackled wrist with a brilliant smile, leaps to her feet and dances about the basement, revealing in her freedom. Then, suddenly, she realizes how bad off you are, and that joy melts away into panic as she tries to figure out a way to save you the same way you saved her.

She can’t, of course. You’re out of breath, wheezing, and can’t manage more than a single word before your heart finally gives out. Everything goes dark, and you die.

The Princess you meet in Chapter Two is a little bit ditzy, a bubbly attitude, and is already free. She has tiny fairy wings, thin antennae on either side of a crown of morning glories, ribbon-y ballet slippers (not proper pointe shoes, probably), and her dress is modeled after old-school ballerinas. You know, with the floofy bell skirts Edgar Degas so loved to paint.

(And here’s some lovely fairy ballerinas in somewhat similar dresses)

She’s protective & worried, and already out of her chains when you arrive. She cries out in joy when she hears you coming down the stairs and races over to meet you, giving the Narrator one hell of a fright. Because the last thing you saw was her staying in the cabin to try to save you, she prioritizes your health over her own freedom, fussing over you. Her cabin is much cozier, with a basement that actually looks like a livable room, right down to a little fire with a cook pot simmering underneath the window.

If you choose to stay & share a meal with her, you will eventually nod off beside the Dancer, her fingers gently brushing your feathers.

The Narrator says you don’t know how long you slept, and you will never know. Because you never wake up. You shirked your duties, and slept straight through the end of the world.

Any other route will inevitably lead to you two escaping together. Unless you kill her, in which case you get the Burned Grey.

(“This one is revelry, but she is also grieving. She never thought anyone would care enough to help, but you sacrificed everything for her. She will make for an effervescent heart. Do not mourn her, for she has found the love she longed for.)

.

Chapter 3: The Dream The Dream’s skirt is longer, back to floor-length, but also formed of wispy layers of torn silk, making it look almost smokey. Her tiny butterfly antenna have become big, feathery moth-y ones, and her wings now drape down her back like a cape. Her eyes are solid black, but refract light enough to look more like large gems than holes in her face. When she smiles, her teeth are sharp.

She is syrupy sweet, just as caring as the Dancer, just as clingy as the Damsel. But there’s an edge to her now. Your last thought was, after all, likely wondering if she had tricked you, to try to trap you down here. She now cares more about holding you at her side than she cares about her freedom, and would happily keep you trapped in that basement with her for eternity if she thought it would keep you with her. Her innocence is more manipulative than genuine—she will not hesitate to whip out the tears or feign hurt in order to get her way, and her protective affection is now borderline smothering.

It’s easy to fall under the Dream’s sway, but like the Nightmare, she really just wants to mold you into what she wants most. It will take a good deal of trickery of your own to coax her out of the cabin, or else the Shifting Mound will take her around when she clasps chains on you, insisting it’s for the best & that you’ll thank her later.

(“This one is shelter & desperation. She knew only captivity and so sought it as a means to protect the only person who ever cared. Her vulnerability is real, but she coveted your company more than your health or happiness. She will make for a passionate heart. Do not mourn her, for she has found the love she longed for.)

.

No original voices, I think. The Dancer & Dream strike me as Smitten & Paranoid routes, respectively. They are (probably obviously) basically alternate versions of the Damsel & Nightmare, after all.

And you know, I think it’d be interesting to see Paranoid deal with a Princess who just seems nice until things start to ramp up.

[neverpathia]

i got bored

so have a little parahero thing i'm spontaneously coming up with on tumblr to pull me out of writer's block

-- -- -- -- --

"Seriously?"

The Paranoid was seriously starting to regret becoming the Long Quiet's resident healer. Not that he'd really had a choice at all, mind you, given how he was the only one that was even half-competent with medicines and the like.

Fortunately, the Hero was one of the better patients. Quite frequent—where did he even find all the time and space to go around adventuring?—but still cooperative enough nonetheless. Besides, ever since the Decider left, they'd had plenty of time together. They were quite close now. He liked it.

If he had one complaint about Hero, it would be...never mind. Paranoid urged himself to focus on the task at hand. Please.

Hero sat upright on the edge of his bed and leaned forward, facing Paranoid and not helping his cause.

"Yeah. I'd like to say otherwise, but..." Hero sighed. "Seriously."

Hero had brought the Cheated with him on his latest Hero-ic expedition. The voice of the Cheated. Of all the voices here, did he really have to bring the most reckless? And the most prone to injury? And the one that took the longest to heal?

Paranoid sat down next to Hero. Hero promptly averted his eyes, but he couldn't hide his grin.

"Great," Paranoid rolled his eyes, though he couldn't help but smile a little. "So now I can enjoy even more work than usual."

He glanced at the bed next to Hero's, which was occupied by a sorry mass of bandages. A sorry, spiteful, seething mass of bandages that happened to be vaguely Cheated-shaped.

Yeah, the Cheated was definitely not happy.

Hero shrugged. "Sorry, Para."

"Not that this hasn't happened before," muttered Paranoid. "Does he have any common sense at all? Getting hurt this much, I swear Cheated runs on pure spite."

"Para, you run on pure anxiety."

"Yeah, it's true, but at least it's efficient. Meanwhile, you run on pure righteousness..."

"Like a true hero, right?"

"...and then you make horrible decisions. But yes, very heroic of you."

Hero blinked. "They weren't all horrible!"

"Well, okay, you also made a lot of good ones. I can't deny that, so fine."

Hero proceeded to break into the most sunshiny possible expression ever. Paranoid rolled his eyes, and tried to ignore the fact that he felt like he was being melted all warm and fuzzy.

"They weren't all horrible," said Paranoid. "They were just mostly horrible."

Hero laughed, but it faded out when Paranoid abruptly froze in place.

"Para?"

No response.

"Paranoid?"

The other voice began to tremble a little, and there seemed to be something tightening inside him. Fear. Panic.

Hero was on high alert now. "Are you- Are you okay? Is it coming again?"

"Hero." Paranoid buried his face in his hands.

Paranoid released a little nervous laugh into his palms. For some reason, he'd lately developed some habit of mad-laughing when he was extremely scared, but then again, he was always scared. Still, that might not be a good sign.

"Hey." Hero inched closer to Paranoid and put an arm around his shoulders. He tried for a friendly smile. "Don't worry, you'll fix him right up. This wouldn't be the first time."

"Yes, I know I'm good at my job, thank you very much—" Paranoid cut off his words, slumped against Hero, and paused for a bit before speaking. "No. It's not about that."

They simply sat like that, shoulder to shoulder, Paranoid's head resting against the strong, carved lines of Hero's neck.

"Are you tired?" When Hero spoke, his tone was kind but cautious, as if he were trying to search for the right words but couldn't tell which ones they were. Still, something small in Paranoid relaxed.

"Yes," he admitted. Soft. Barely a whisper, barely spoken at all.

"Do you...want to say what you're thinking about?"

"I- Okay, what about you? Doesn't it tire you out, having to hear what I have to say all the time again and again and again and again—"

"No." Hero took Paranoid's hand and gave it a firm squeeze. "Maybe it's not okay, but I care for you. And I want to know. Just tell me, if you want to."

Paranoid laced his fingers between Hero's. His hand was clammy and a little shaky.

"I'm just...Look at Cheated. And you, you put yourself in danger all the time, always doing the right thing, these wounds, what if it happens to you? What if you're injured and I can't bring you back or you hurt so much and I have to do something about it and I can't or-or-or-or-or—"

Before he could say any more, Hero pulled him into a hug.

"I'll be careful. I promise."

[impossiblycyberenthusiast]

Now that chapter 3 is out, I’m going to start promoting To Be Whole Again here;

A classic post-game au, taking place with the voices and vessels after What Happens Next.

You like these designs? This what all of them look like :> more designs incoming too; Happy and Dragon won the poll.

[yourlokalescholar]

Is no one gonna write about the voices developing into their own people after getting their own bodies, helping each other survive and grow into multifaceted individuals? Fine, I’ll do it myself

[murtvets]

decided to kickstart 2025 with going back to writing fanfiction finally :) and why not share it on here

[unfinishedslurs]

The boy stops in his tracks. “I know you,” he says, tilting his head curiously. He’s not tall, but he’s regal nonetheless, dressed all in white. Something about him makes Leia’s hair stand on end, and although she hides it she feels a stirring in her own chest. I know you like I know my own soul, she thinks wildly, and wonders where it came from. Has she gone insane?

“That’s nice,” she says, and shoots him anyway.

He deflects it in a flash of light, a glowing blue laser sword appearing in his hand like magic. She’s only seen one of those before, and it’s Vader’s. If this boy is anything like Vader, she realizes, she’s in deep shit.

She’s smart enough to know when she’s outmatched. Leia makes the tactical decision to run for her life.

Later, as she’s getting the hell out of there, she wonders why he didn’t try to stop her.

She remembers being young and tugging on her mothers skirts, demanding to know why their guest was so sad. “Does he not like it here?” She’d asked, and then, trembling, because Kenobi always seemed saddest around her. “Is it…because of me?”

“Oh, Leia,” her mother sighed, lifting her into her arms. “It’s not that, I promise.”

“Then what is it?”

“Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, years ago.” Breha’s eyes grew deeper, darker. “It was not his fault, but he blames himself. You remind him of that child, that’s all.”

Leia had quieted at that, contemplative.

The next time she’d seen Master Kenobi, she had given him a hug. He didn’t seem to know what to do with that, so she resolved to give him more of them. “He’s lonely,” she’d told her mother. “No one should be lonely.”

Looking at Obi-Wan Kenobi now, the memory seemed so far away. He’d aged thirty years in the ten it had been.

He looks, Leia thinks with a small twinge of regret, very lonely.

“Leia,” he greets. “It’s been a long time.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Leia sees a glint of white.

Kenobi freezes in his tracks. “Luke?” He whispers, and through the distance Leia can hear it as if he’d been speaking directly into her ear.

Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, her mother whispers in her head. He blames himself.

In an instant, Leia understands everything.

Kenobi is still staring at the boy he’d lost so long ago when Vader cuts him down.

Later, as she’s pacing around on the Falcon to Han muttering darkly about Princesses and supernatural abilities, she rememberers the way the boy collapsed, as if all his strings had been cut. Vader was too occupied with him to even look at her as she shot at him desperately.

Luke. She hates him more than she hates herself.

“They know where you are,” he hisses frantically. “They’re coming for you. You have to run.”

“Wait!” Leia quickly pulls up their sonar. Nothing yet, but it would explain the distant queasiness she’d felt since they’d landed. She tended to trust her gut. “How do you know? How much time do we have?”

“Not important, and not enough,” he says. “I have to go, and so do you. You need to leave yesterday.”

“How do I know I can trust you? I don’t even know who you are.”

He pauses. “Call me Skywalker.”

“That’s not an answer, Skywalker.”

“Yes it is.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but there are faint voices on the other end, drawing nearer.

“Shit,” Skywalker mutters. “I have to go. I’ll be in contact, okay? Don’t ever tell me where you are, or where you’re heading. Vader and Palpatine aren’t shy about reading minds. Just leave as soon as you can, and figure out the rest.”

“But—“

It’s too late. The comm has disconnected.

She stares down at it, disbelieving. How would the Empire know they’re here? Why should she trust a stranger who somehow got her personal comm code?

Gut feeling or not, on paper this was a perfect location. Supplied, armored, and most importantly, extremely well hidden. There was no real reason to think it would possibly be found out.

It’s probably a trap. Almost definitely a trap.

Han sticks his head in the door, a sour look on his face. “Hey Princess, can you tell these idiots—“

She makes a decision then and there.

“We’re leaving.”

“What?”

“We’re evacuating, effective immediately.” She pushes past him, and he follows so close he’s nearly stepping on her heel.

“Why? I think it’s pretty cozy here. Actual sunlight doesn’t hurt, either.”

“Apparently too cozy.” She grabs the first person she sees, a pilot who stares at her with wide eyes. “Emergency evacuation. Spread the word to pack everything you can and leave, I’ll let you know where we’re headed when we’re in orbit.”

He salutes and scurries off.

“Woah, hey now.” Han snatches at her elbow until she turns around to face him. “What’s going on?”

“There’s a new informant. He told me the Empire knows we’re here. They’re coming for us.”

“And you trust this person because…”

“I don’t have a choice,” she snaps. Someone runs past them, holding three packs filled to the brim with rations. “It’s either he’s lying and we’re not in danger, or he’s telling the truth and we’re going to die if we don’t listen. It’s not exactly hard math.”

It could be a trap of course, but he hadn’t suggested any sort of direction or destination to follow, and Leia wasn’t inclined to share. Especially not after his tidbit about Vader and Palpatine reading minds.

He squints at her. “That’s not it.”

“What?”

“I don’t believe you,” he insists. He’s so infuriating. Leia doesn’t know why she hasn’t kicked him out yet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do, and you’re either gonna tell me why, or find a different transport when we head out of here.”

“Who said I was riding on your hunk of junk?” She demands. She actually was planning on going with them, since the Falcon has more than enough room for all the supplies that can’t fit in the other ships and none of the trustworthiness of the other pilots, but Han doesn’t need to know that.

“Well?”

Damn him. Damn him for knowing how to read her. She doesn’t know when she let that happen.

“I feel it,” she admits, defeated. “Something tells me he’s trustworthy. We’ll wait and see if it’s right.”

He studies her. She holds her head high, but inside she’s jittery at the scrutiny. They don’t have time for this.

“Yeah, all right,” Han finally says.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” He rolls his eyes, like she’s not acting absolutely insane by putting all her trust in a random man she’s never even met. “Now come on, Princess, weren’t you the one who said we had to hurry?”

What is it about this man that makes it impossible to tell whether she wants to punch him or drag him into the nearest supply closet? They don’t have time to find out.

“So there’s good news and bad news.”

“Bad news first,” she demands.

“They know there’s a mole.”

“Shit.” Of course they know, how could they not? She should have been more careful, less obvious about the correlation of their movements with the Empire’s plans. “The good news?”

“They’ve tasked me with hunting down this ‘pathetic rebel spy,’” Skywalker says, humor in his voice. “That should buy me some time.”

Leia can’t quite stop the snort she lets out. “Seriously?”

“Yep. You’re speaking to a professional mole-hunter, here.”

“Well congratulations on the promotion, Skywalker.”

“Thank you,” he says grandly. Then, quieter, “It won’t last, Princess. They’ll find out eventually.”

“I know. Just hang in there, it will be over soon.”

“Will it?” He asks, suddenly sounding very young. She realizes that she has no idea how old he is. She doesn’t know anything about the man who has saved them more times than she cared to admit, and the idea rattles her until they sign off.

Later, she looks up the name Skywalker in their archives. There are a few results, but only one sticks out.

Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight and hero of the Clone Wars. Killed at the hands of Darth Vader. There are gossip articles too, speculations on his relationship with the pregnant Senator Padmé Amidala, who died around the same time Skywalker did. The baby, it seems, died with her.

Unless he didn’t.

It’s ridiculous. It’s impossible. The idea is so ludicrous that Leia almost rejects it entirely.

But it makes sense. By the Maker, it makes sense.

The child of Anakin Skywalker, it seems, would be a powerful Force user indeed. Powerful enough for Kenobi to take the baby and run. Powerful enough for the Emperor to want him for his own gain. Powerful enough to send Vader after Kenobi and take the boy himself.

Maybe even powerful enough to shield his mind from Vader and Palpatine’s intrusions.

Powerful enough to hide the fact that he’s a spy.

Leia sinks into her chair, covering her face as she laughs.

Maybe Luke isn’t so bad after all.

“No, no, no,” she mutters, digging through the smoking wreckage of the TIE fighter. “Don’t be dead, please don’t be dead.”

“Princess…” Han lays a hand on her shoulder that she immediately shrugs off.

“No, he’s not dead. He’s not. Luke!”

A faint cough answers her, and she’s so relieved to hear it she could cry. Behind her, Han starts bellowing for a medic and, “Some damn help here, do you expect us to move all this ourselves?”

“Luke, it’s me,” she sobs. “It’s Leia. You’re at the Rebel Base. You’re safe.”

More coughing, and there’s a worrying rasp to his voice when he says, “You know…my name?”

“I figured it out.”

“Smart.” This time, the coughing is so bad Leia and Han both wince.

“Shit, kid,” Han says, moving another piece of rubble. “Don’t talk. We’re gonna get you out of here, all right?”

“Stand back,” Luke chokes out.

“What?”

“Stand back. Please.”

Han protests, but something in Leia knows they should listen to him. She drags him back, and motions everyone else to fall back with them. They do, albeit reluctantly.

“Clear,” she calls, hoping Luke can hear her.

The TIE explodes.

“Fuck!” Han goes back in, Leia on his heels with the terrifying feeling that she’d just allowed Luke to die, before they both stop in their tracks. Around them, the broken pieces of the TIE are floating.

And curled up in the middle is a man dressed all in white.

“Luke!” She pushes past Han to start dragging him out, and after another moment of staring around them, he helps her.

As soon as they get clear, the pieces fall to the ground with a clatter. Luke falls limp with them.

Han is still looking at the TIE. “Can you do that?” He asks quietly.

Leia pauses her examination of the unconscious man in front of her to glare at him. “Is that what you’re most concerned with right now? Really?”

“Excuse me for asking, Princess!”

“It’s white,” Luke grumbles, pulling at his hospital gown bitterly. “I hate wearing white.”

“Should I be offended?”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t even. You look great and you know it. I just feel like I never left.”

“Well,” she says gingerly. “I guess it’s a good thing you got sick of it. If we went around in matching outfits all the time, people might think we’re twins.”

He snorts. “Yeah, right.”

[fanfic-inator795]

Slay the Evil Scientist: A Perryshmirtz fic inspired by the game, "Slay the Princess".

((Still can't believe that it was this AU and Perryshmirtz in-general of all things to break my nearly half-a-year bout of writer's block. But hey, I'm not complaining! And I hope you all enjoy this.

This fic can stand on its own, so you don't need to know anything about StP to read this - although I do somewhat spoil the big twist of the game so fair warning on that. Also, trigger warning for temporary character death and mild violence, though nothing too gorey or descriptive. And remember: This is a love story))

The Agent opened his eyes, and took in his surroundings. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten there, or what he was supposed to be doing - but before he could start to ponder or panic about this, a stern voice in his head told him all he needed to know.

“Agent, you’re on a path in the woods.” This much was obvious, given all the trees that surrounded him and the dirt road underneath his webbed feet.

“At the end of this path is a tower,” the gruff voice continued, “and in that tower is a scientist. An evil scientist. Your mission is to slay him… or the entire world will end.”

As he heard this, the Agent’s eyes widened. Slay? As in kill? He didn’t even fully know who he was, and he was expected to just take a life? Just like that? It was more than a little jarring… At the same time though, the words “evil” and “world-ending” weighed heavily in his mind.

If the Voice was telling the truth, then his ‘mission’ of sorts would still be a noble one, regardless of its gruesome nature. And even if he couldn’t remember much about this world that surrounded him, the twisting trees looming over like towering shadows and the bright moon shining down on him like a spotlight, the Agent knew in his heart of hearts that he couldn’t just stand passively by and let this evil scientist destroy everything.

So, the Agent steeled his nerves and began trekking down the short path. In only a few minutes, he reached the tower, just as was promised. The tower was a faded purple in color, sharp and angled with only a single light shining through its open balcony.

Entering the tower, the Agent immediately spotted a laser gun resting on a small table near the front door. The Voice advised him to take it, as it would make completing his mission much easier, and the Agent did so without much hesitation.

As the Agent climbed up the stone stairs, the Voice continued to warn him of what was to come. “He will lie, cheat, trick, trap - he will do anything to try and get the upper hand. Do not give him that chance. You cannot let him win. Your mission must be completed, for the sake of this world and everyone in it.”

The Agent nodded, understanding perfectly. Once he reached the top of the stairs, he swiftly kicked the door in, and kept his steady hand on the gun’s grip as he stepped inside.

Naturally, his sudden presence caught the attention of his target, the so-called evil scientist. Really, the only thing ‘scientific’ about him though was his stark white lab coat that was somehow free of dirt (despite the fact that the scientist was sitting on the dust-covered floor, forced to do so due to the heavy metal chain around his wrist). His brown hair was wildly messy, and he had dark bags under his eyes.

For a moment, the Agent thought the scientist looked a bit concerned - a bit scared, even. But, when the scientist spotted the laser gun in his hand, he sneered coldly at the Agent. “And just what do you think you are going to do with that, hmm?” he asked, with noticeable venom slipping into his thick German accent. “What? Are you here to thwart me or something?”

The Agent glared back at him and raised his weapon, pointing it directly at the Scientist’s head, the Voice’s warnings still echoing in his head. This was for the greater good. Taking only a second to aim, he fired. ZAP!

It was a fatal wound, that much was obvious, just as it was a bit of a relief. Evil or no, the Agent had at the very least tried to make it a quick death, figuring that even world-destroying villains deserved that much. 

However, as the scientist began to slump over, a shocked expression still stuck on his face, he could’ve sworn that he heard the villain quietly mumble “Curse you…” before hitting the floor. Dead as a doorknob, though that didn’t stop the Agent from wincing at the sight. He felt sick, a cold chill going up his spine.

The Voice, meanwhile, was as pleased as could be. “Well done, Agent! Your mission is officially a success! Thank you for saving our world. You did the right thing.”

The Agent said nothing, his gaze still locked onto the scientist’s corpse, doing his best to push back any questions and potential feelings of regret he might have had. Eventually, he was able to turn himself around and begin his trek back down the stairs.

Except, he never made it to the tower’s front door. A sort of mysterious force began to surround him, sweeping him up like a wave and plunging him into unconsciousness.

When he woke up, the Agent was back in the woods on an old dirt path, with a gruff voice in his head giving him his mission.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

“This is your mission, your duty,” the Voice insisted, “One that you MUST complete, for all our sakes.” There was no other option, at least as far as the Voice was concerned. No compromise, no option to fail or surrender.

It was… a lot to take in. Frankly, regardless of the Voice’s claims, the Agent wasn’t sure if he could understand it - if he could just blindly accept this ‘mission’ without any argument. Just what was so ‘evil’ about this scientist anyway? Did he really need to-?

“No,” the Voice boomed in his head as he walked towards the tower, “You CAN’T question the mission, Agent!” 

Despite himself, the Agent just barely resisted the urge to flinch at the commanding tone to - barely resisted the urge to completely fall in line to the Voice’s whims. 

As if understanding this, the Voice quickly took on a more sympathetic tone. “Please, I understand that the fight can be taxing, but trust me when I say you cannot reason with evil… If you do, it could put everything - everyone - in danger…”

The Agent said nothing in return, though he did offer the Voice a short nod in acknowledgment, not completely ignoring its perspective even if he himself was still mulling over his next few choices.

In the end, he still decided to grab the laser gun as he entered the tower, just in case. However, instead of choosing to kick the tower’s final door down, the Agent used his hand to simply turn the knob, entering the room in a relatively peaceful manner. Once he was fully inside, he could see that the Scientist was chained by his wrist to the wall near the balcony, looking unsure and cautious as the Agent stepped forward.

“…And just what do you want?” the Scientist asked, managing a small scowl. The Voice continued to whisper warnings of “villain” and “evil” and “trap”. But the man still seemed harmless. Maybe not innocent, but not yet a threat.

So the Agent stepped forward, curious to see if the Scientist would actually make a move and prove the Voice’s concerns right. The Scientist raised an eyebrow, but didn’t do anything more.

“…Are- Are you actually going to use that thing?” he asked as soon as he spotted the Agent’s weapon. “Because, if you’re asking ME whether or not to shoot me, I- I definitely wouldn’t recommend it! Yep. Toooootally unnecessary.” The Agent huffed slightly, unsure if the Scientist was joking or if he was simply failing to give a serious plea for his life.

“Although,” the Scientist continued, lifting his imprisoned arm, “You could maybe use it to get me out of here. Just one little zap should do it! And it really would help me out here. …Soooo?”

The Agent stayed silent as he weighed his options. He didn’t think it was completely necessary to take the scientist’s life, but he wasn’t sure if just letting him go was the best choice either - especially when the Voice just kept warning him of how badly doing just that could backfire on not only him but also a world filled with innocent people.

“You cannot reason with evil… He will lie, cheat, trick, trap - he will do anything to try and get the upper hand…”

The longer he stayed silent, the more impatient the Scientist became. “Okay, okay, fine. Don’t help me out then, I can get out of these chains just fine on my own. Oh yeah, I’ve got a lotta big ideas up in here-“ he pointed at his head, doing his best to look confident, “Tons of ‘em! And none of them involve the help of some duck-beaver guy who can’t stop giving me the silent treatment. So there!”

A boastful claim, and one that the Agent rolled his eyes slightly at. As far as he could tell, this ‘scientist’ didn’t exactly seem all that clever, regardless of whether or not he was actually dangerous. And it was this thought that allowed the Agent to let his guard down ever so slightly…

“Yep, I could… Let’s see, I could… I could invent my way out! Yeah, I could create some sort of chain-picking-inator! Or- Or a chain disintegrator-inator! That could definitely be handy. Heh, get it?” The Scientist put on a cheeky grin as he waved his hand at the Agent, rattling the chains with each movement. “Handy? It would be handy? …Be-Because my arm is- is the thing that’s trapped. You get it, right?”

The Agent just stared flatly at him. Yep, definitely a fool. As far from an ‘evil mastermind’ as you could get. (Even if he is a fool, he’s still a danger that needs to be stopped once and for all, the Voice reminded him.) 

The Scientist then shrugged slightly, dropping all sense of boastfulness. “Or I could, you know, just break my hand. That could probably work too. I could break it juuust enough for me to slide it out! Of course, I imagine that would be pretty painful, so maybe we save that for Plan C or D.”

Twisting the heavy chain in his hand, the Scientist slowly lifted his gaze, looking the Agent straight in the eyes. “Although, if you were in my shoes and were trapped here as long as I have, I think you’d agree that there are much worse things than a few broken bones…”

A familiar chill ran up the Agent’s spine. Even if he was able to speak, he wasn’t sure if he would have been able to think of a proper response to that. Just how long HAD the Scientist been trapped in this tower?

“Buuuut in the meantime, if I had to go with the best Plan A, I would just use that thing right behind you!” the Scientist suddenly shouted, pointing over the Agent’s shoulder.

Without thinking, the Agent turned to look - and immediately felt something grip the scruff of his neck, yanking him forward. If not for his instincts, he likely would’ve gone straight into the purple-bricked wall, probably bruising his beak or possibly even earning himself a nasty concussion. Instead, the Agent managed to tuck his head in just in time, meeting the floor instead of the wall.

He heard the Scientist let out a sharp laugh in victory. “Ha, gotcha!” No longer gripping the Agent’s neck, he then reached for the laser - an action that sparked enough panic in the Agent that he was able to tighten his grip on the weapon as he rolled over onto his back. A hard kick sent the Scientist flying backwards, stretching the still-attached chain as far as it would go.

With a grunt, the Scientist glared. “Ugh, why you-!” He lunged for the laser gun again, and was actually able to get his hands on it. The Agent growled back at him, refusing to let the gun go. They wrestled over it for what felt like several pulse-pounding seconds stretched out to minutes, neither of them able to take aim. 

“Just- Just give it to me already!” the Scientist shouted in frustration before elbowing the Agent sharply in the stomach. But, with the Scientist now being so close to him, the Agent was able to take advantage of this new angle. Grappling his opponent’s arm, he twisted it and forced the Scientist to release his grip. Once the weapon was his, the Agent took aim and fired - ZAP! - hitting the Scientist square in the heart. A fatal wound.

The Scientist gave a grunt, and before succumbing to his fate, he gave the Agent one last scowl. “C-Curse you…” he stuttered before finally falling dead on the floor.

Still panting a bit, the Agent quickly picked himself off the floor, taking a couple steps back from the corpse. But as the Voice congratulated him on a job well done, it all just fell on deaf ears as the Agent still kept an eye on his former target, wanting to make sure he didn’t get back up.

The fight didn’t feel over, somehow… And indeed, as darkness crept into the tower and the mysterious cycle began anew, the Agent promised himself that he would never underestimate the Evil Scientist again.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

For several lifetimes, the Agent was able to truly understand the full spectrum of the sort of threat that the Evil Scientist could be under the right circumstances as their rivalry with each other continued to grow and shift and change.

There were times when, whether it be out of returning curiosity or a sudden burst of empathy, the Agent actually gave him a chance to try and fight for his freedom (much to the Voice’s disappointments and frustration), where the Scientist was actually able to show off his skills - his many so-called ‘-inators’, built from his own imagination and whatever scraps of material he could find within his prison, each of them varying in ability and often prompting unexpected (sometimes even impossible!) results.

Even with the claims of “Evil, Villain, Destroyer, Monster” continuously echoing in the Agent’s head each time he confronted the imprisoned scientist, the Agent didn’t feel this was accurate, at least not completely. The Scientist was maybe a bit unhinged, sure. Certainly still a bit foolish too. But he was also fascinating in a way, his own brand of cleverness being something that the Agent could never get a complete grasp on, no matter how many times they fought - every sudden trick and makeshift trap and surprise punch always caught his attention.

It was interesting, exciting… Maybe even a bit fun! And, while he still fought for the Scientist’s continued imprisonment, the Agent couldn’t help but somewhat appreciate the more notable surprises that came from the Scientist each time he brought out a never-before-seen invention or surprised the Agent with a new countering move. Even during their most intense fights, they’d manage to smirk and grin with each passion-filled clash, each punch or kick or trick or glorious fight-ending explosion. 

But not all fights had moments that could be enjoyed or appreciated. Far from it, in fact...

Sometimes, when the Agent was reminded of just how dangerous (how evil) the Scientist could potentially be when pushed to his brink, the tower morphed and shifted upon his following return, becoming a whole armory, its atmosphere now harshe and cold.

Though he was still bound by chains and unable to escape on his own accord, the Scientist - now looking more like a dictator of sorts, clad in black instead of white with a scarred eye and gloved hands that seemed to be built for merciless cruelty - was surrounded by weapons. Guns and knives and vicious machines, all meant for the sole purpose of winning their eternal face-off.

But, even if he only had his lone laser pistol and his fists, the Agent never backed down, facing the Dictator head on. They’d clash over the course of an eternity, equally dealing fatal blows to each other as they each desperately tried to gain the upper hand. It was all futile, however, for even if the Agent was able to stop the Dictator from escaping and unleashing his wrath upon the world, often he would end up perishing soon after.

“Heh, at least… we’ll both go… together,” the Dictator noted with gritted teeth before adding a “Curse you…”, making sure to have the last word as they both died.

As for the times where he managed to live, the Agent still never made it past the tower’s front door, being immediately swept into another world - another mission, another fight. 

Sometimes though, when he was truly leaning into his pure chaotic nature, the Agent didn’t meet with the Dictator.

Instead of looking like a defensive artillery, the Tower would sometimes take the form of a Wizard’s keep, filled with dangerous magic that took the form of twisted staffs and bubbling potions in huge caldrons instead of weapons and gadgets. 

The Wizard himself still dressed in dark colors, now with horns adorning the top of his head and glowing red eyes while the rest of him was draped in a dark green cloak. The Wizard’s unhindered access to magic sometimes made it difficult for the Agent to keep on his toes, still only ever being given a single laser gun by whatever force controlled the world that surrounded them - but different strategies and all the new ways they both used to fight back against one another still led to the same batch of results in the end.

In worlds where his opponent’s desperation was reaching a breaking point, however, something more wild and primal was found lurking in the tower’s plant-filled shadows…

No longer a Scientist or even fully a man, the Beast would present itself with torn clothes and golden fur covered in dark spots, growling and glaring with narrow green eyes as a long tail twitched behind him with an immovable chain clasped around his neck. The Agent, in turn, would have to let out his own animalistic side when they fought, lest he be mauled (or even worse) by the Beast.

But whether he was a Beast or an Inventor or a Wizard or Evil Dictator, the Agent still fought with all he had, succeeding in his mission over and over and over again. But, even as his memory continued to be wiped with each death or dive into unconsciousness, the fatigue started to linger, as did his sympathies for his eternally-imprisoned adversary.

“Please,” the Scientist begged with gritted teeth, unable to stop the tears from forming in his eyes even as he tried and failed to land just one more punch, “I just want to go! I- I hate being trapped in this stupid tower! I hate it!”

Their eyes met once more, and the Scientist’s shouts became a whisper. “You hate being trapped in all this too, don’t you?” The Agent said nothing, though his expression told his opponent all he needed to know. “W-We can leave this tower together, just the two of us. We don’t have to be trapped anymore. We-”

His heart might have started to wane - but the Voice still cut through the Agent’s mind like a knife. “Absolutely not.”

ZAP! The Agent didn’t even remember pulling the trigger, but he couldn’t forget the look of utter betrayal and hatred and pain that the Scientist gave him as he crumbled to the floor, his tears finally being allowed to fall. “Curse you,” he mumbled before finally breaking his gaze.

The Agent’s gun clattered to the floor, and he felt too sick to move. “It was your duty, Agent. For the mission,” the Voice reminded him, a hint of sympathy (but never regret) now present in his tone. The Agent just scowled, and silently passed his fallen enemy’s curse along. 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

“Agent, you’re on a path in the woods. At the end of this path is a tower, and in that-”

The Agent growled at him, his fists clenched. No. No more. He was done.

“W-What? Agent, please, you can’t! This- This is your duty, and you must-!”

Nope, not happening. Screw the Voice. Screw the world. He was done being a pawn. Without another thought, the Agent turned on his heel and stomped away from the familiar path, the tower in the distance becoming smaller and smaller with each step.

Angered now, the Voice continued trying to assert his authority, his endless orders now making him sound less like a firm guide and more like some sort of commander - a general, or perhaps a major. But the Agent refused to bow to this authority, and continued forward even as the path began to wind and morph beyond normal comprehension.

But despite how hard he fought against fate, he still eventually came face-to-face with the tower once more - standing firm and tall within the newly formed void, assuring that the Agent no longer had any sort of choice. Except, of course, the choice to come in peace. And so, when he finally entered the tower, the Agent refused to take the weapon with him, continuing to ignore the Voice’s rage as he climbed up the stairs unarmed.

The tower’s balcony was bare, no weapons or inventions to be seen. A lone figure stood in the dark, illuminated through the light of the full moon shining through the open window. The chain attached to the shadowy figure was covered in a thick coating of dust (for what reason had he had to ever move from his assigned spot?) and the figure itself was as still as a ceramic statue, his clothes simple and bare and without personality. Was he even still alive, the Agent wondered.

It was only when the Agent began to step back towards the door did the figure finally speak, his shaking voice breaking like glass as he quietly pleaded. “D-Don’t go. Please don’t go. I- I’ll be good! I’ll just stand here, forever! Just please- please don’t leave me alone again. I-I don’t- I don’t know who you are but, but I don’t want to be alone anymore. So please… please stay.”

The Agent’s heart ached with every word, and in only just a few short, swift steps, he was embracing the human statue, holding him tightly in his arms. Sobbing now, the figure slowly yet eagerly moved to return the hug, ignoring whatever aches it might have brought his long unused muscles.

“This is all a trap - a mistake,” the Voice insisted, “Agent, please! You have no idea what sort of danger he could bring to the world if he steps foot outside this tower!”

Then, the Agent silently countered, we won’t leave this tower.

Continuing to tightly clasp the Figure’s hand, letting him know that he wasn’t going anywhere, the Agent moved back from his embrace and sat down on the dusty old floor, motioning the Figure to do the same. It took a bit more coaxing, but as they sat hand-in-hand under the moon’s spotlight, the Figure slowly began to speak, letting out a lifetime’s worth of thoughts.

Some were simple, others more complex and strange, and some were just completely absurd and random - just a bunch of never ending thoughts about loneliness and heartache and dreams and hopes and -inators never built and the sympathy he now had for other things that had been forced into solidarity like garden gnomes and lost balloons. 

But the Agent listened to every single one of them, more than happy to spend an eternity doing so and refusing to interrupt even as the aging tower began to crumble around them.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

“And just what do you think you are going to do with that, hmm?” the Scientist asked, sneering once he spotted the weapon in the Agent’s hands. “What? Are you here to thwart me or something?”

Solemnly, the Agent shook his head… and then placed the laser gun on the floor, right in front of his enemy. It would be easy enough to snatch and use in whatever way he saw fit, yet the Scientist could only gape at the Agent, unable to believe what had just happened. Not that the Agent was all that surprised, for it seemed like he always remembered a bit more about their previous meetings than the Scientist did. 

He remembered that slaying his so-called enemy wouldn’t do either of them any good, and that if he were to try and rescue the Scientist by destroying the chains himself, either the Voice or the mysterious force surrounding them would always get in the way - would always present some sort of other obstacle that would prevent them from successfully escaping.

So, the Agent was letting his enemy take the lead on what to do next, because as far as the Agent was concerned, there weren’t too many other moves they could make. But hey, the Scientist did have a knack for surprising him, so he trusted him.

Even if the Scientist didn’t yet trust him in return. “This- This is some sort of trick, right?” he asked accusingly, “I mean, who brings a laser with them just to give it to someone else they don’t even know?! This HAS to be a trick! Like, I’m gonna take the laser and it’s going to just blow up right in my face! Or- Or you’re going to let me think that you’re going to just let me escape, and when I do you’re going to bop me right in the nose! That’s right, I see your little game, and I’m NOT falling for it! So there!”

Instead of trying to argue, the Agent just shook his head once more before rising to his webbed feet. Ignoring the call to pick his weapon back up and finish the mission, he looked the Scientist in the eye, giving one last nod towards the laser as he offered his silent permission to do whatever he wanted with it, and turned around to head back towards the door.

After a few moments and a couple steps, he heard the rattling of chains. Then, a loud ZAP! He heard the weapon fire long before he felt its crippling burn. Without much resistance, the Agent fell to his knees.

“Ha-ha, yes! I got you! I- ...Wait.” He could catch the panic in the Scientist’s voice now as it became louder. “Wait, wait, no! Nonono, I- I take it back! I didn’t mean to- I mean, y-you weren’t supposed to-!” There was more chain rattling accompanied by the sound of feet scraping against the floor, desperate to reach him. “Please! I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry!”

But the Agent held no contempt for his companion, instead giving him a small smile as he slipped into death’s embrace. It didn’t do much to slow the Scientist’s tears, and even when the Agent closed his eyes, the Scientist’s apologies continued to echo through the darkness.

The very next time that the Agent was forced to return to the tower, he noticed how the old purple building was covered in thick, spiky vines that forced him to climb it instead of going through the door. Once he’d climbed onto the balcony, he saw that instead of being chained to a wall, the Scientist was now in the direct center of the dark room.

His head was hanging low as he sat in his small cage, imprisoned and handcuffed and unable to (unwilling to) do anything to free himself. The Agent frowned deeply at the sight, and once he was close enough to it, he kneeled in front of the cage. He tried to reach a hand in through the bars, but the Prisoner flinched away from it. “Don’t.”

The Agent let out a sympathetic chitter, and it was enough to make the Scientist actually look up, his fatigued eyes now filled with relief and recognition and, above all else, immense regret.

“This is for the best,” the Scientist muttered, lowering his head again, “Me being stuck in here forever… This is just how it has to be, it seems. I mean, whoever or whatever trapped me here apparently wants me to STAY here no matter what and I…” His tears began to return. “I don’t want to hurt you again.”

The Agent cooed sympathetically - he still felt the phantom pain from his healed wound, unable to completely forget it, but still able to forgive it. What’s more, he was tired of hurting him too. So, so tired - and reached his hand inside the cage once more. This time, the Scientist didn’t move away from him, allowing the Agent to take his hand and squeeze it gently.

“...Do you really think it’s possible?” the Scientist asked, “For us to actually get out of here together? Without destroying each other or everything around us?”

The Agent nodded firmly. Maybe he didn’t know for sure if there was such an option for them, but he wasn’t about to give up on trying - and though he had no magic key that could offer a perfect solution to their woes, he was at the very least able to unlock his Scientist’s cage with just a single touch, allowing him to open to it like magic.

“...Hmph, you really don’t want to just give up? You really wanna go through all of this again? Even if it possibly leads to something worse?” The Agent nodded one final time, and the Scientist sighed. “Curse you,” he mumbled, his words completely free of any real anger or frustration, as he crawled out of the cage, now with nothing there to stop him from pulling his former enemy into a tight embrace (remaining handcuffs be damned).

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

“Agent, you’re on a path in the woods. At the end of this path is a tower, and in that tower is a scientist. An evil scientist. Your mission is-”

The Agent interrupted his commander’s usual briefing, seemingly acknowledging what the Voice was going to say before he could finish saying it. He already knew exactly what his mission was by this point, and he wasn’t about to let anything, anyone, or any force in the universe get in his way.

“...Oh,” the Voice replied in mild surprise as the Agent swiftly made his way down the path, “Well, er, good! I’m glad you’re already up to speed, and that you understand just how important this mission is, as well as why you can not fail.”

The Agent nodded again, his gaze steeled ahead as the purple tower came into view. As always, he entered the door, taking notice of the laser gun resting on the nearby table. This time, however, he refused to take it.

“...Um, Agent? You forgot your weapon.” The Agent ignored him as he began to climb up the stairs. “It’s going to be a lot harder to complete your mission without it, you know. Are you listening, Agent? Agent!”

With a ghost of a smile on his face, the Agent opened the tower’s final door, stepping into the room with ease. He could see that the Scientist was chained by his wrist to the wall near the balcony, but given that the Agent was approaching him unarmed, he looked much more curious than surprised.

“Well, this is unexpected,” the Scientist noted, “And by unexpected I mean… really unexpected. Seriously, I thought that I would be stuck here forever!” Ah, so he forgot again. But it’s alright, the Agent thought to himself. After all, he tended to remember enough for the both of them.

“Anyway, are- are you here to give me a hand here?” the Scientist asked, giving his chained wrist a slight shake, “Or, are you just here to…” He trailed off, obviously concerned about the alternative, but the Agent tried to soothe these fears with another smile and a firm nod.

“...Wait, what? Agent, what are you-?”

“Oh. Oh so you ARE here to help me escape!” the Scientist grinned, “That’s great! So, do you have a key or maybe some sort of lock-picking tool? Though, if I’m being honest I’m not sure if either of those would actually be much help… I don’t even think this chain even has any sort of keyhole on it! Apparently whoever trapped me here REALLY didn’t want me to leave, but maybe between the two of us we could think of something, right?”

“Absolutely NOT! Agent, please, you can’t! He’s evil, and if he escapes, the fate of the world-!”

The Agent continued to push the Major’s pleas and commands to the back of his mind, instead putting all his focus on his chained companion. Knowing fully well that the Scientist was much more than simply a seemingly-scatterbrained prisoner, the Agent gestured to his lab coat’s pockets.

“Hm? Oh, well, I guess I was tinkering with a little something-” Reaching into his coat, the Scientist pulled out the makeshift device, crafted out of an assortment of odd things - bits of collected metal and rock and stone, along with more ‘unique’ items like paper clips or bits of wrapper from a long-eaten bar of peanut brittle. Altogether, it had been fashioned into some sort of… laser? Or maybe it was more of a bomb. Or maybe it was simply out of the realm of proper categorization all together.

“I know it doesn’t look like much, but I didn’t exactly have a lot to work with in here,” the Scientist explained somewhat sheepishly, “but hey, when you’re trapped and can’t go anywhere, you tend to improvise - even if it means using whatever trash is in your pockets and using your feet to try and get more tools and materials that are just baaaaarely in reach. Heh, lucky break for me, right?”

Perhaps it was luck, or perhaps it was fate. The Agent knew by this point that the Scientist could craft just about anything - any sort of ‘-inator’ that he could put his mind to, ranging from the chaotic and the truly dangerous to the impressive and even the amazing. 

“Say, I bet if you can help me finish this thing, we could both get out of here together!” the Scientist said, now smiling much more brightly. “Since you don’t have to worry about reaching the end of any chain, you could probably strip this place of all its worth! I just need a couple more things to stabilize my -inator, and maybe a better fuel source or igniter of sorts if you can find one.”

The Agent gave him a thumbs up, and though he kept quiet (or at least relatively so, given how admittedly eager he was to actually talk with someone after being alone for what seemed like an eternity), the Scientist couldn’t help but take notice of just how safe he felt around the Agent - how… familiar he seemed, and how right it felt to just be near him. 

Unfortunately, other than a few loose screws and some more broken pieces of stone, there really wasn’t much that the Agent was able to find for the Scientist. He couldn’t search the rest of the tower either, as the Mysterious Force had locked the door, to where not even a good kick or shoulder-raming could break it down.

It seemed like this time around they were totally stuck… That is, until the Agent’s foot bumped against something much more useful than rocks or scraps - not to mention something that was certainly familiar. It was the laser gun, somehow now in the room with them despite originally being abandoned near the entrance.

“Huh! Well, would’ja look at that, Agent!” the Voice spoke up, his tone now much chipper than it usually was. “It’s that weapon you forgot! A weapon that would certainly make it pretty easy to complete your mission now! Maybe the universe is trying to say something, hmm?”

Rolling his eyes, the Agent picked up the laser gun… and immediately handed it to the Scientist. He trusted the Scientist, and the Scientist had no reason to not trust him. So, he eagerly took the weapon, thanking the Agent profusely as he began tearing it apart, his nimble fingers practically becoming blurs as he picked out all the useful materials he could use. 

“You’re making a mistake, Agent,” the Voice warned him with a sigh, his disappointment evident. Both of them knew that, at this point, with no weapon currently in the Agent’s hands, there was nothing that the Voice could do to try and stop him - to stop them. 

What’s more, the mysterious force that had kept them trapped - that had forced them to fight and hurt each other over and over and over - would soon enough no longer be an issue, and though the Agent gave the Voice his sympathies, he also had no regrets.

After just a few minutes of work, the device was nearly complete. “I think… I’ve juuuuust about… got it!” Letting out a victorious laugh, the Scientist held up his device. “Behold! The break-out-inator!” Setting the device down on the floor, right next to the wall that he was chained to, the Scientist activated it and then quickly backed away as far as his shackle would let him. 

“If this works, it won’t just break whatever my chain’s connected to, but it’ll also give us a pretty easy way to get out of here too!” he continued before pausing. “...You’re okay with climbing down from the tower, right? Not afraid of heights or anything like that?” The Agent shook his head firmly. “Ah, good! Good to know… And also, well… I just wanted to say thanks. Again. F-For helping me break out of here, and for just being here. I actually don’t really know WHAT exactly is beyond this tower, but… I think I’m ready to see it.”

The Agent was ready too. More than ready, actually. With each tick of the -inator’s countdown, his excitement and nerves swelled. This was it… Well, hopefully it was. And if not, then maybe he would at least get to keep this memory - this feeling of partnership and genuine care.

As the -inator reached its final numbers, the Agent and the Scientist took each other’s hands as they turned away from the device, shielding themselves as best they could. It was a glorious explosion - one that not only rocked the tower’s fragile walls, but the world itself. Even the sky was forced to crack and break at its unexpected power, and as an otherworldly light shone upon them and the rest of the world began to fall and fade away, that was when the Agent truly understood what his mission was. What he was.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Chaos and order. Disruption and restoration. Creative madness and stoic logic. Surprise and routine. Randomness and stability. Two forces that, while natural opposites of each other, also kept each other in balance. Not true enemies, just contrasts of one another. Two parts of a natural extreme, yet also two halves of one whole.

This was what they were, what they always had been - and what they were now meant to be once again, now that they were nearly free, their original power (a power that could shape the multiverse itself) nearly being back in their grasp.

In some ways, the Agent could still understand the Major’s motives for trying to create what he could only see as a better and safer world - for trying to eliminate what he saw as something that could only ever be destructive and dangerous. A force that, with enough power and without any boundaries, could destroy a million worlds. It really wasn’t a wonder why the Major strictly saw it as ‘evil’, as something that needed to be stopped once and for all.

By forcing both beings into conflict on a much, MUCH smaller scale, there was a chance he could have created a scenario where Order and Stability ALWAYS came out on top over Chaos, eventually eliminating the threat of Chaos completely and allowing for a universe shaped by a much more rational and overall much more safe (much more ‘good’) force of nature.

But that was a world that could never be. Not without true sacrifice, at least.

“...You know, I really had no idea that I was a god.”

The Agent turned to look at the Scientist. Despite it being how the Scientist originally was, he was still getting used to seeing his true form. (It was also admittedly hard to remember to use his adversary’s true name, even if he now knew it.)

“I mean, me? A god? It’s still pretty shocking,” the Scientist continued. He stood with two arms folded over his chest while the rest of his many arms fanned out like a peacock’s tail, desperate to touch the rest of the universe that laid beyond their current realm after being trapped and held back for so long. His pure white coat was now a coat made out of living stars and careening comets and slowly-expanding black holes, his new form now a stark reminder of all the beauty and danger that came with an unpredictable universe.

“I knew that SOMETHING had trapped me - that I didn’t belong in some old and lousy tower all chained up - and looking back, there were a few times where I felt like I was remembering something or that I had a bit of deja vu, but I thought maybe I was in some sort of time loop. And yeah I was but, well, as we both can see there was clearly a LOT more going on.”

The Agent nodded with an exhausted huff. That was certainly an understatement. As a godly force of nature, he had never felt so… mortal before. But, as painful as it had been at times, he could also feel a distinctive change within him. A permanent shift in what he had been and what he now was - a humble dash of humanity, mixed with several dozen lifetimes of experiences both good and bad.

“...So, what should we do now?” he heard the Scientist ask, sounding just as tired as his companion was. “I mean, I know I said I wanted freedom and all that but… this is all just a bit much, don’t you think? I don’t know if I even want to go back to being a god, even if it’s apparently what I’m supposed to be.”

The Agent nodded again, making it clear that he shared those sentiments. He didn’t really know what they should do either, and he wasn’t used to feeling so unsure. They may have had options, sure, but he wasn’t used to having so much power weigh into making them.

“...I think you should be the one to decide.”

The Agent blinked, and looked back over at his partner, who just gave him a small smile in return. “Hey, you were the one always reacting to whatever I was doing, and if you ask me, I think you’d know what to do better than I ever could. Besides… I still trust you. So, just do whatever you think is right for the universe or- or the multiverse or reality or whatever.”

The Agent looked back at him, staring at him for what seemed like another eternity before finally nodding, accepting the responsibility with only a little reluctance. Once he truly thought about it though, he realized that maybe the choice wasn’t so hard after all.

Reaching down into himself, he brought forth his natural godly abilities… and used it to pull them both down back onto the mortal plane.

Maybe in a different life, he would’ve chosen to accept his role as a God of Order and Stability, and he and his companion would have continued their celestial battles against one another as they watched billions of worlds be threatened and saved and destroyed and put back together. A beautiful routine, certainly… but it wasn’t theirs anymore.

As he let his power go into the vast emptiness of the space surrounding them, the Agent could briefly see a third being out of the corner of his eye - framed in silver, sharp-angled and unbending, with a familiar voice quietly echoing out from it as it permanently faded into oblivion, his own personal mission of trying to use the power of two gods in his own agenda now officially a failure. At the very least, the Agent hoped that the Major could now find some sort of peace.

In the blink of an eye, the Agent - now back to being JUST an Agent - found himself back in the old tower’s foyer, a laser gun still resting on the small table near the doorway. He took the weapon, just in case, and began to climb up the stairs. The door to the balcony opened with ease, and the Scientist was there waiting for him, no chains or shackles in sight.

The Scientist almost immediately noticed the gun, but he didn’t react to it much beyond a short hum. “I actually remember the first time I ever saw you with that thing now,” he said, unafraid but still just a bit cautious. Not that the Agent could blame him, given how efficient he had been at ‘completing his mission’ their first time around. Perhaps he could properly apologize for that now.

With no chains to try breaking and no -inators to build in order to gain their freedom, the Agent casually tossed the gun away into the shadows of the room, making it clear that he hadn’t changed his mind about not slaying his other half. He didn’t want them to be mortals again just so he would have an easier time defeating him. He just wanted to live, and he didn’t want to do it alone.

So, he held out his hand. “...You’re sure?” the Scientist asked. “We still don’t really know what’s out there, or what us giving up our- …well, everything, is gonna do to the world. N-Not that I don’t still trust you, but…” He trailed off as they looked into each other’s eyes.

A sense of anticipation and anxiety could be felt in the cold air around them - even the Agent could admit that he was a bit scared of the unknown that awaited them just outside the tower’s front door. But as they looked at one another, they knew that whatever sort of world they faced or whatever sort of life they decided to live on this plane of being, they would be doing it together. They would never be alone again.

“...Okay.” Without any more hesitation, the Scientist took his hand, and they walked out of the room and down the stairs, with there being nothing to interrupt them or get in their way. This was truly it.

The Agent felt the Scientist’s grip tighten as they reached the final door. “I- I’m not THAT nervous, really!” he insisted (in spite of sounding completely unconvinced himself). “Just- Just give me a moment…”

The Agent gave him a soft smile, and after a moment, he lifted both their hands, resting them on the doorknob as he gave a quiet chitter.

Smiling back at him, the Scientist replied, “Yeah? …Yeah, I love you too.”

Together, they turned the knob and stepped out into a brand new world.

((PHEW! So... yeah! This was my little StP Perryshmirtz AU! Glad to finally have it out of my head, lol. But yeah, feel free to leave comments/reblog and leave your thoughts about it in the tags. Also, to anyone else who wants to play around in this AU, PLEASE be sure to tag me in your art/fics- I'd love to see other people's interpretations of the game's routes and how they'd work for Perry and Doof. Thanks again for reading! ^v^))

[v3nuskae]

I MADE FANFICTION!!!

Erm, hi. I'll be honest, my Slay the Princess fixation died down the last couple days. But! I have one last thing to share. If I could somehow bring myself back to this fandom again, I'll continue it. For now, I present to you my fanfiction based on this AU: The Knight Btw, this is my first time putting my actual writing work out there. I'm confident about my art, but writing is a whole 'nother thing. So, if you guys could, please be gentle. 😓😓 Thanks so much for the likes and the little notes and tags in your reposts. I read a lot of them and it means a lot to me. Maybe I'll be back posting about STP or other fandoms soon.

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: Harry Du Bois and his skills from Disco Elysium is in the role of Slay the Princess' protagonist. The usual Voices and the Narrator accompany them as if nothing is out of place. Things go more than just out of place.

Author: ASpooky

Note from submitter: This fanfic is glorious both in it's writing and how it looks. This fanfic looks like its straight from Disco Elysium and plays with it wonderfully. There are gags playing with and poking fun at the differences of the source materials like the characters from StP needing to be rearranged to fit into the DE style of narration. The author manages to mesh the two worlds together in a glorious way as if the two were meant to be together while expanding upon both. What personally shocks me is that this is ASpooky's first work and it is glorious beyond compare. They've also never coded before yet they managed to incorporate StP's famous "Heart. Lungs. Liver. Nerves." moment in a really, really cool way that you just have to see for yourself. I am in love with every little thing of this fanfic and it's still going!

[modeus-the-misanthrope]

I know I have said it would be next year minimum when I post fanfics again...but I couldn't let Christmas go by without giving the StP fandom something.

So enjoy what I hope to make my longest non-shipping fanfic. (Might not be too hard since I already reached 3,000 words with chapter 1 alone.)

(Have a bonus, "You done yee-ed your last haw!" Witch edit.)

[taking-a-raincheck]

I have 3 Very Important Questions for y'all: out of all the Slay The Princess voices (excluding the Narrator), who would be the best singer, who would like to sing the most, and who would be the one to sing lullabies when someone else couldn't sleep?

No particular reason. Definitely not for a certain STP series I'm way too excited to be planning. Nope.

Edit: thank you so much for all your suggestions, everyone! I loved them (and continue to love them) and I think they'll be very helpful 😉

[faislittlewhiteraven]

Tower of Dormont ISaT AU

Had a weird dream I figured would make a great ISaT AU if anyone wants to take a swing at it so umm, general idea:

Instead of the House being taken over by the King, instead the Favor Tree is warped into an evergrowing tower reaching up, up, up into the heavens.

Instead of the King's Curse slowly making its way across the land and Mirabelle being the 'Chosen One' to collect the orbs to stop it, it's time freezing Sadnesses raining down from the top of the Tower all over Vaugarde and surrounding countries, with heroes from all over (Euphie, Claude, various Defenders, people from other countries, etc) heading into the Tower to figure out what is happening only to never return...

And well. It looks like the end for Vaugarde, Mirabelle (having finally hit the 'I know what Euphrasie said but I've got to do something' point) has recruited Isa, Odile and Bonnie for a last ditch effort to try and stop the world from ending by Tower and...

Within the first few floors (which keep changing but kind of look like... The House of Dormont? No, that bit there looks like Odile's family home, and that room there is just like Nille's???) they find an unlocked bedroom and in that room an exhausted, terrified and near hopeless Siffrin who can barely remember anything from his life before being imprisoned here (even takes a bit to recall his name over the now despised 'Bright One') but after a bit of coaxing they admit they know a LOT about the floors ahead and might be willing to help the party reach the top of the Tower where they can put a stop to the madness going on outside but in return they must not let the King catch them (not again not again not again)...

Party are actually pretty cool with this (you know, aside from general 'is this person legit or actually an enemy?' concerns) but well, it's hard not to notice as their guide goes from barely able to fight beyond weak scissors craft and buffs to healing and every craft type under the sun. From claiming they don't know what's behind a certain door or above the next floor to explaining in detail that the prisoners in cages on the next floor are all Sadnesses, or that 'the King is coming, he hasn't realised I've left the room yet but I need something, anything, to mask my scent' (and later gets everyone to leave false trails down halls via jars of sugar and honey they picked up a few rooms previous). From claiming that the party are the only other people they've ever seen here to having near breakdowns over finding books or paintings with imagery and words that seem eerily familiar (think a book that reads like 'Claude wonders why Euphrasie and their amnesiac guide are so fussed about the walls here apparently being covered in stars? Why do stars matter anyway?'), etc.

Oh and they glow more and more with each floor which er, is probably going to make hiding from the King (who is VERY DEFINITELY after them judging from all the "Bright One, you know you are not supposed to leave you room. You do not want me angry again do you Bright One?" roaring) increasingly difficult.

...

And yeah. I don't actually know what is going on in this story beyond cool imagery due to the whole 'Literally woke up with this in my head because dream' but...

Been thinking it's kinda like an 'end game Persona series' situation where a chance friendly meeting/talk between Sif and the King right before the King's rampage would've started, led to the King to realizing he could use his Wish Craft to force the people of Vaugarde to 'wish with him' (see: escalating brainwashing madness), forcing a terrified Sif to go along with it (no brainwashing for the Bright One no, not when they were clearly sent by the Universe to be the King's guide ignore the Bright One's screams that this is wrong, that they want nothing to do with this; clearly oracles only relay the Universe's intent not share it themselves), and the current 'raining time freezing Sadnesses/Sif clearly being stuck in some weird looping variant' stuff being the result of Sif's 'Please protect Vaugarde and restore our home' wish said at the King's orders being heard by the Universe as "please Universe do whatever you can to stop all of Vaugarde- No, the world from falling under the King's control! + Someone, anyone save me! + 'immense amounts of self loathing and a desire to known and held accountable for inadvertently sparking a man made apocalypse' + Universe I wish I had people who actually cared about me/who would never only use me as a tool to save the world" and er well. The Universe had a way to 'protect everyone from the King' that would also kind of fit the King's wishes, a whole heap of power from all the brainwashed people the King was leading plus the 'meant to be repurposed' freezing all of Vaugarde in time ritual the King crafted to work from Dormont and... Yeah. Add to that people all over Vaugarde and possibly other countries 'adding' to the 'please save us' wish bank after Sif had already accidently centered it all around himself and basically both Sif's loops and the Sadness hell storm are being powered up by everyone everywhere in one huge ball of 'Hmm, I wonder if this all ends with the King getting killed or is there gonna be a big old morality question thingy post King killing at the end where Sif, upon remembering that "this is all my fault" tries to get the others to kill him which other heroes may have done (and thus triggering the loop, sending Sif back to the start possibly missing memories of them to hide away in shame/terror/etc) whereas Mira, Isa, Odile and Bonnie have gotten far too attached to this tragic, self sacrificing idiot and were willing to let the rest of the world be fully frozen for the rest of Sif's natural lifespan if it meant he could finally be free (not happy about it mind you, but like, just the 5 of them living in a quiet world until everyone else is safely freed after Sif's natural death is better than murdering someone who went through an eternity of horrors to protect a world they couldn't even remember and who's death might not even be the true answer anyway)'.

Oh and the King should basically be treated like a yandere version of the Reaper or something throughout the story (dream had way too many 'and then the King was suddenly there killing someone until Sif slashes their throat -no tears to use in this Tower alas- and from the party's perspective basically has a 'vision of the future' and/or freakout for seemingly no reason in the middle of Snack Time), while each of the many many floors of the Tower are basically due to being altered to match the minds of everyone (frozen or not) in the Tower, kinda like a Palace or P4 dungeon, due to well, Sif unconsciously wanting to learn more about them, wanting to remember/forget, possibly on some level wanting the King to how horrible this all actually is IDK (snack rooms, like the bedroom Sif was in are basically P5 saferooms but less 'area weak in cognition' and more 'Sif wishes for there to be places safe from the King and all the Sadness so there are some even if he knows he can't stay in them forever least they become prisons for him'). ...Might be nightmare floors as well? To represent Sif's terror of bad things happening to anyone he becomes attached to and wanting to be able to protect them so basically, they are accidentally making their own opposition (possibly based off of what they hear the others being afraid of/the desire to be useful to them) and I think Slay the Princess might make for great inspiration there if you need an idea of how crazy that might go~ XD

...So. Yeah. If anyone wants to use any of this for any fanfic ideas, please go ahead as I kind of would like to focus on my Selkie Au and fics for other fandoms more than this weird dream that basically took over my brain and said SHARE in caps so loud I've been stuck thinking about it ever since.

[neverpathia]

was struck by another sudden burst of inspiration, okay, so have another little scene from my little AU

pristine cut HEA minor spoilers

advy may look ooc at first but I promise I'm trying

----- ----- -----

The Skeptic picked at a scone, prodding its suspiciously rough edges with a fork. "Opportunist sent these over?"

His twin brother, the Smitten, dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. How was his plate already empty? Did he have no sense of taste at all?

"Oh, that slimy, slithery wretch may don the visage of a dragon." Smitten lowered the napkin with a dramatic flourish. "Harken! He yet has kindness within that twisted, twisted heart."

Skeptic rose from his seat and fed the rest of his portion to the nearest trashcan. "The scones aren't even good."

"Fie! My own kin deigns to partake in such indignity?"

"Indignity? More like indigni-tea. 'Cause we just had tea, heh heh."

Smitten ignored the excellent joke. "To waste such a meal as this, and belittle a dear confidant nonetheless-"

"'Dear confidant'?" Skeptic raised an eyebrow. "Hm. Come to think of it, what have the two of you been talking about?"

Smitten shot him an exaggerated glare, his cheeks deepening red. "Brother mine, you shall do well to-"

There was a knock on the door.

On second thought, calling it a 'knock' would do it no justice. It was more like someone was violently pounding on the door, each strike more like a punch, every impact crashing on that poor door like a barrage of steel cannonballs.

Skeptic frowned. "Why would someone knock when we have a doorbell? Based on the strength, it's most likely Stubborn, but why?"

Smitten pushed aside his chair with an excessively graceful flick of the wrist. "Allow me to receive our guest."

"Oh, you're allowed alright." Still, Skeptic was beginning to get a bad feeling about this.

The Smitten began to sashay over to the door. There was something distinctly queer about the movements, and Skeptic muttered something about a certain someone swinging a certain way. Smitten... the Opportunist, 'dear confidant'... surely not--

But Skeptic didn't get to finish that train of thought. And Smitten never got to open the door himself.

Instead, he scrambled away in an uncharacteristically inelegant fashion as the door tore away from its hinges. He just barely managed to make it to safety as it collapsed onto the wooden entryway tiles, bent and battered.

"Excuse me?" The Skeptic was confused.

"Pardon me?" The Smitten was offended.

Smitten's face immediately smoothed into his signature (self-proclaimed) dashing smile when he saw who the intruder was.

"A Princess!" Smitten was positively beaming. "Why, you are always welcome, please have a seat-"

"What?" Skeptic quickly set the plate he was holding onto the nearest surface. "So you're just going to ignore her very obvious crime of property damage?"

This Princess did not look very pleased.

And, with those muscles, she definitely looked like she was capable of causing even more property damage.

"My fair lady, I extend-"

The Adversary did not let the Smitten complete that sentence. She cut him off with a strong square punch in the stomach. It flung him across the living room before he crashed into a cabinet, sending a ceramic vase of roses tumbling to the ground.

"This," she snarled, "is for her."

Skeptic ran to his twin, shocked. Smitten was reeling and coughing. He leaned against the cabinet, surrounded by pieces of shattered ceramic, panting, gasping. A trickle of blood had begun to make its way down his chin.

"Princess..." Smitten murmured, dazed and mesmerised. "How beautiful, how..."

"Excuse me?" Skeptic repeated to Adversary, as calmly as he could muster. "Miss, what are you-?"

She strode towards the wounded Smitten, offering Skeptic a brief glance. Was that pity? Disappointment?

"Two on one might make it a fairer fight," she said. "Right now it's no fun. But you're not a part of this."

Skeptic tensed, ready to help his brother somehow, but it didn't matter. As she readied the next punch, he tried to intercept the blow, but she simply shoved Skeptic aside.

"What-" Frustration. Confusion. He hated it, he hated it all. "No! You can't do this out of nowhere! Smitten- defend yourself, don't just take it-"

The Skeptic's words were powerless. She repeatedly pummeled Smitten with her fists, striking at face and chest and limb, dealing no lethal blows but maximizing the pain of every hit.

"Do you understand what you did?" Adversary yelled between attacks, seething. "To her?"

That seemed to finally bring Smitten to his senses. "Who?" It came out as but a pained breath. "But...I would...never!"

"So you really don't know!" Adversary raised a hand before firmly clasping it around Smitten's neck. There was a sort of rage in her eyes, and it only blazed ever brighter when he lay there sputtering and choking. He struggled. He shook. But he didn't fight back.

"Stop!" Skeptic didn't know what to do with this situation. He despised not knowing. What could he do? What should he do? "Please. You're hurting him."

"Like he hurt her!"

"He's Smitten! He'd never lay a finger on a girl, let alone hurt one that badly-"

"Okay, then just ask him yourself!"

"How am I supposed to ask him when you're beating him half to death?!"

She paused. And then she released him with a sigh.

"Yeah." She wiped her hands on her tattered skirt. "You know...I really hate beating people up like this. Fine."

She got up.

"I'm still a guest, right?"

Skeptic glared at her. "No."

"Oh. Do you have any energy-drinks? Protein shakes?"

"No. Bugger off."

Skeptic turned to Smitten, his gaze softening in concern. "What's going on, really? What did you do, do you know anything? Do you know this Princess?"

Smitten, too powerless to speak, could only manage a weak shake of his head.

"I'll go get Paranoid later, alright?" Skeptic awkwardly patted him on the shoulder. He looked back at Adversary, who was busy leafing through-

"No checking the drawers," Skeptic said crossly.

She wrinkled her nose. "You guys really have nothing good! Ten whole brands of black coffee? Seriously?"

Skeptic cleared his throat.

"I'll have to ask you a few things, Miss...Eye? Needle?"

"Adversary," she answered.

"Ah." Skeptic nodded. "I thought you looked different. So, who is this 'her' you were talking about?"

When Adversary spoke again, her tone was pure contempt.

"She was his little Damsel. His happily ever after."

[alteredphoenix]

The only idea for a Slay the Princess fic that I have so far is a crack fic where the first Princess - say, the Stranger - arrives in the Long Quiet and has to ask the Shifting Mound to at least give her something to do to pass the time while she waits for the Hero to show up. The Shifting Mound ends up manifesting a few packs of poker cards in neat little cellophane and a rulebook and tells her to get comfortable.

Cue the Stranger playing all sorts of card games with the other Princesses as they come into the Long Quiet one by one.

[yourlokalescholar]

Okay so I posted this on Ao3 ages ago but completely forgot I meant to upload here so uh… better late than never?

Anyway this is the first part of my roleswap au :D Working on part two now; I’ll upload it here once it’s done, but there are two chapters on my Ao3 already if anyone wants to check it out!